Sultry
by Gemini Explorer
Summary: Challenger leads the others to a diamond mine to seek medicinal plant samples, but M&R remain at home, and make the Treehouse their palace for a night and morning of hot romance. And Finn brings Marguerite something that truly excites her!


Author's Note: This is Rated as Mature for some fairly intense sex scenes and generally mature content. There is limited use of adult language. Read accordingly. Characters from, "The Lost World" are not mine, and I thank New Line Cinema and other copyright owners for their permission to use them in fan fiction. Be aware that this is set after the 3rd Season and without regard for possible plot twists of the cancelled 4th Season. George and Finn are now a couple, not just mentor and protégé, and the other couples in the Treehouse are now also formed and acknowledged, although they cannot marry until they eventually leave the plateau. Also, Finn has exchanged her small crossbow for firearms acquired from perished expeditions like that in the TV episode, "Suspicion."

And now, our story! This is dedicated to Jovana, for whom it was written.

**"Sultry"**

By

Gemini Explorer

"All things considered, I am utterly convinced that we should go," said Prof. George Challenger, leader of the little expedition gathered in the living room of Veronica Layton's treehouse that afternoon.

He was referring to an idea that he had developed that they should go in search of medicinal plants, with a side excursion to seek diamonds in a mine rumored to have been worked long ago by Spanish Conquistadors.

Nicole Finnegan, his fiancée and a survivor of terrible things in a century yet to come, nodded. Brought back by Challenger from the annum 2033 in a one-shot time machine/cave , Nicole was better known to her friends as Finn, the nickname by which they had first met her. She was deeply devoted to Challenger, who had been her combined father figure, mentor, teacher, and now, lover. After realizing just how distinguished a scientist he was, Finn had been a little in awe of him, let alone that he should come to love her so much that she had entered a new life, one more fulfilling and with greater hope than she had ever dreamed might be hers. Teased by her peers for her obvious dedication to Challenger, to the point that the other Treehouse women said that her man must be the most spoiled of all time, Nicole countered by saying that this was proper, for hers was the love of all time, the romance of the centuries.

Now, she added her assent to her man's argument that they should mount an excursion to the mines of Agua Caliente.

"This should be 'way cool!" she said, urging her friends to join them. "We need these plants and stuff, and I want to find a few diamonds. Marguerite, come with us: you like diamonds!"

Marguerite Krux considered carefully. "If what George said is true, these stones may largely be of industrial quality. Not gemstones." She was basically lazy, and it was several miles to the mines.

"True," agreed Challenger. "But there may well be some gemstones, and we need the industrial ones for use in some of my experiments." He saw the look on Finn's face, and hastily added, "Er, in our experiments..."

She grinned. "You'd better not leave me out, Genius!"

"Yeah," added Ned Malone, intrepid American reporter. "That's the Challengers: 'We are Us'." He chuckled.

Ned's woman, Veronica Layton, groaned. "Neddy, you're a brilliant writer. You can come up with a better line than that." But all knew that George and Finn were _this_ _close_ and were seldom apart for long, in or out of the Treehouse. Even they smiled at Ned's jibe. He smirked a little, noting that Finn was even now sitting on the arm of George's chair, his hand resting comfortably on her bare thigh, holding her hand… a rather intimate scenario in mixed company in those days, 1923.

"What's everyone else doing?" Malone asked. "Veronica and I need to get out more. We've been doing housework and scribbling in my journals for the past week. We'll go, I guess. Honey?"

Veronica nodded. "Sure, it'll do us good to get some sun and exercise. I know right where those mines are, so I can guide us. And, George, almost all of those plants that you want should be growing nearby. We'll take some bags and gather them, enough to last you for months. We can dry the leaves and use them as needed. We can stay overnight and come back tomorrow in time for a late lunch or early supper. We can kill a deer or something on the way home. We need fresh meat, anyway," She had at one time been a vegetarian, but had been eating meat for over a year, influenced by Challenger's teachings about proper diet and by Zanga shaman Xma'Klee's agreement.

Challenger turned to the third couple. "John, Marguerite?"

"Actually, I've been hunting hard for the past week and working on the fence and chopping wood. I'd rather stay here and recover," admitted Lord John Roxton, the XVIIIth Earl of Avebury. "But I suppose that Marguerite will insist on going if diamonds are involved?" He looked toward his fiancée, who was stirring a glass of iced tea across the table from him.

"I'm going to shock everyone and say that I'd rather stay here with John," she replied. "I have enough diamonds for now. I know they're a girl's best friend and all of that, but I have quite a few such friends squirreled away in various hiding places. And I've found that _THIS_ girl's best friend is a certain nobleman with whom I'd like to spend more time alone. Will anyone mind awfully much if we stay here? Someone has to tend the Treehouse and I want to get some sewing done. Besides, I twisted my ankle working in the garden today, and want to be off of my feet for awhile."

Challenger considered, looking at each of the others, reading their faces. "Very well, surely we can spare the Roxtons for once. But, I think that John had better take Marguerite's temperature. I'm a little concerned that she isn't eager to rush after diamonds." He chuckled.

"Not funny, George," scolded the Krux lass. "I'll have you know that I've gone as long as two days without thinking of diamonds! I'm becoming more secure, emotionally and financially. Anyway, my ankle really does hurt. I need to stay at home for now."

"It's okay, Marguerite," said Finn. "If I find any good stones, I'll bring you some. Sew me a new dress?"

Marguerite agreed, and they finished planning their day.

The others went to gather their gear and were soon ready to venture forth. They waved goodbye to the Roxtons and went to the elevator. Lord Roxton watched them leave, then raised and secured the elevator.

Marguerite hobbled over to him, using an improvised crutch to take the weight off of her injured ankle. She hadn't been entirely faking the sprain. It did hurt. She wondered if she should apply a bandage, but was reluctant to do so. Maybe later, if it got worse...

"Well, John," she exclaimed. "A whole day to ourselves, and part of tomorrow! What shall we do, apart from the obvious, knowing your unbridled lusts?" She kissed him, and they walked to a couch in the living room and sat to plan their unexpected time together.

Chapter Two

On the trail below, Challenger paused to glance up at the sky. It was hot, and clouds had formed over the Plateau. They might evade them, but the Treehouse would probably see some rain that night. If not, it would still be humid. He was glad that the road to Agua Caliente led into the highlands, where breezes would stir the air and the explorers would be cooler than at home. Still, the Treehouse's height would make life there more tolerable than on the ground, and the Roxtons would be able to run the overhead fans that he had designed, linked to the main generator.

"Hot," said Finn, at his elbow. She wiped her brow before taking George's hand again.

"It's always humid at this time of year," agreed Veronica. "The air seems to have a special languid quality about it. But it can be romantic, especially in the evening. When we get to a little lake above, it'll be cooler, and as the sun sets, everything is so beautiful! I think I'll be glad that I came." She brushed her long blonde hair out of her eyes.

Ned looked at her and said, "Sultry, like the American South in summer. You know what they say about Louisiana? That it takes two alligators to enjoy the summer." He laughed at his joke and the others also smiled.

"That's one of your better ones, Famous Scribe," admitted Veronica.

"Vee, we're Brazilians. We were born here. How do you think Johnny and Marguerite will fare in this weather? Are you, okay, Genius?" Finn looked with concern at Challenger.

"I'll make it," her man allowed. "We British have been quite successful in dealing with this sort of climate in our colonies in Africa and in India, which we have ruled effectively since 1757. I shall cope. And have no doubt; John and Marguerite will also manage. I daresay that they see themselves as Ned's alligator couple." He chuckled. "I rather like that image. I want to remember to tease John about it when we return. Never fear, I shall make it all right, and so will the Roxtons."

And the foursome pressed on, wanting to reach the cool spot by the lake that Veronica had mentioned. The allure of the breeze from off the water beckoned to them, and they quickened their pace, consistent with careful listening and looking for dangers. It was well that they did so, for Challenger narrowly avoided being struck by a foul-tempered emerald tree boa (_Corallus caninus_) as they passed the limb on which the snake was draped. Malone thought of beheading it with his machete, but decided to let it live. They walked wide of its tree and trekked on, the angry reptile hissing at them. Finn raised a middle finger to it in a very unladylike gesture and Veronica gasped, and then giggled.

The air grumbled and there was the smell of impending rain. Animals stirred in the jungle. An Allosaurus roared, the sound chilling the blood of all the mammals and most of the reptiles that heard it. All paused and listened, eager to avoid the big theropod.

Three miles on, they set up camp, keeping to the trees, where they were less likely to be seen by enemies, human and otherwise.

Clouds passed over, bringing only a brief respite with falling drops that cooled the land and left a primal, gravid scent, as if the very earth was pregnant with new life. The explorers took shelter under their rain capes, keeping weapons and packs dry until the shower had passed.

They cooked dinner over a small fire and sat around talking as they watched the flickering flames until the moon had risen. Then, the couples separated for privacy for a time, although they stayed in easy hearing of one another, lest an emergency arise. Finally, they came together again, pitching camp without tents, relying on their hammocks to keep them safely above the forest floor, where they might be encountered by snakes, centipedes, and other nasty visitors. Veronica didn't help by telling a story that she had gotten from the Zanga tribe , about how a man lay awake all night, terrified, as he heard a jaguar crunching bones as it ate the man in the next hammock. (Note: this was inspired by a true account narrated in a book once read by the author.) Finn shivered and decided to sleep with her Mannlicher-Schoenauer rifle and flashlight in her hammock. Challenger held her hand, on the verge of sleep, their arms reaching across the foot of space between them in the darkness, the hammocks all but touching as they swung.

"Lover?" she asked. "How are you holding up?"

"Well enough," he replied. "But as we noted earlier, it is sultry…"

Chapter Three

Back at the Treehouse that afternoon, Marguerite had told John how much she longed for a bath, a real bath, not just a shower. This was more involved, for water had to be heated. This used more wood, which had to be chopped and split and conveyed up in the elevator. And the water had to be heated in the kitchen in pails, a tedious, somewhat dangerous undertaking.

Still, Roxton and Ned Malone had laid in a good supply of wood and he loved her, so he heated the water and poured it into the tub, diluting it with cool water until he had the temperature right for Marguerite to enter and bask safely in luxury.

She sang as she bathed, that damned ditty about a bird in a gilded cage. Roxton heard her in the next room, and was initially miffed. Then he decided that the song was "her" and let it go, glad that she was happy. And it was now a tune that he associated with her, and she had a good singing voice, so he tolerated it. As he tolerated her, and loved her…

Marguerite finished bathing and padded out from the tub, across the living room to the primitive shower, where she washed off the soap residue. When she stepped out, she toweled off, wrapping a second towel around her wet hair, which she had shampooed.

Roxton stepped forward and said, "Here, Marguerite, let me dry your hair. Sit on the balcony and lose that other towel. I want to see you, all of you. You are an endless visual delight. My eyes never tire of seeing you nude, lovely, splendid, the ultimate incarnation of classic feminine beauty."

"Oh, if you ask so nicely, I suppose that I can force myself to sit in the sun _au_ _naturelle_ as you labor to dry my curly locks." She purred as she sat, stroking herself sensually down each arm until she lay back in the chair. She noticed that her man had set out a pitcher of limeade with ice and two glasses on a small table. She stretched, crossing her shapely ankles as she arched her back, her firm breasts thrusting upward for his viewing pleasure. She looked from the corner of an eye to be sure that this had the desired effect on him, and thought she saw his snug trousers tighten in front as his body reacted to her proud nudity. She took the towel off her head and shook out her onyx tresses

Roxton stood behind his love, using a towel artfully, drying her hair, running his fingers over her shoulders gently, massaging her as her hair finished drying in the torpid afternoon heat. Mercifully, a breeze sprang up, caressing her body as she basked in the rays of the waning sun.

She murmured pleasurably, "Lord Roxton, if you should need employment when we escape this cursed Plateau, I think I know a salon that might hire you. Women would pay handsomely for your talents."

"Sorry," he answered. "Only one woman in the world merits this degree of my attention. Fortunately, you're her. Relax and enjoy it. Of course, in the fullness of time, I shall probably expect some trifling service in return. Like the best efforts that you have in your repertoire of tricks developed while you were the slave of that pompous sultan who once owned you." (See the Fic, "A Prisoner of the Sultan" on this board.)

Marguerite glanced coyly at him. "Maybe, if you're very fortunate. After all, he was my master. You're only my fiancé! " She smirked. "Good for you, John, that I love you. Keep up your efforts and loosen my slightly stiff neck and I promise you all the delights of a superb slave girl plus what I learned as a courtesan who married two prominent European gentlemen of great means. I think I can provide you a night beyond what you have ever experienced, despite your being a ladies' man of marque, I believe. Not bad recompense for a back rub."

"Not bad recompense at all," he admitted. "But there is more involved here than a massage, Marguerite. For that level of delight, I may just make dinner for you. In fact, I have."

She looked up, surprised and pleased. "I _am_ impressed, Lord Roxton. You must be hard up for a good lay! What are we having?"

"Roast loin of brocket deer, potatoes, and carrots. I'll open one of our few remaining bottles of good red Bordeaux wine. I'm guessing that you might prefer a Chateau Margaux over some excellent choices from St. Julien? I know that we have a Chateau Beychevelle and one from Chateau Ducru-Beaucaillou. But the Margaux is slightly lighter, more feminine, and famed for its legendary perfumed bouquet. Did I guess right?"

"Oh, John," she gushed. "You're serious, aren't you? You did this, for me? Why?" Her face was flushed and her eyes wide and she looked happier than Roxton had ever seen her.

"Because I love you more than I thought that I could ever love a woman, Marguerite. From now on, you will have the finest that I can provide. That will be limited here, but I feel sure that either Challenger or Fate will provide us with a means of escaping this infernal Plateau someday, and I pledge to you the best wedding that you could desire. And after, you will have the best life that we can share. I offer to you my family name, my fortune, and my eternal love. In other words, I think you're worth making dinner for." He leaned over and kissed her startled lips.

"Oh, John," she moaned. "Oh, John! I love you so much!" She stood and embraced him, holding him close, with their mouths locking as firmly as she found herself bound within his arms.

When they parted, Roxton went to shower quickly while the roast finished cooking. But first, he opened the bottle of Chateau Margaux, to allow the wine to breathe.

When he came out of the shower and dressed, Marguerite sauntered in from the balcony, her hips swaying gracefully, sensuously. She was virtually nude, wearing only gold loop earrings like those favored by Finn, a gold and emerald necklace, and the brief G-string made of colorful feathers and beads mounted on a narrow strip of leather that she had been forced to wear in Xochilenque when her man had fought Xu'ac to the death in the Tecamaya emperor's arena. Marguerite and Veronica, restrictively tied, briefly clad, had been made to watch from beside the throne of Cuauathemoc XIV as Roxton tried to stay alive and slay the big Zanga rebel. (This account appears in, "The Crystal Skull", now on this board. That story is referred to in many of my other Fics. The explorers took a very considerable treasure from that dreaded city, making them financially secure for some time.)

She knew how much this little loincloth hung from her waist on a slender golden belt had appealed to John. Now she saw his eyes widen as his handsome features registered raw male appreciation for what he saw.

Marguerite said innocently, "I thought I'd dress for dinner. How do you like my outfit?"

"Very seasonal, I must say," he remarked. "It is rather sultry, and that seems ideal for this weather."

She smiled mischievously. I thought that perhaps you might approve. How far along is dinner? I'll help you serve. "

He took her hand and they walked into the kitchen and checked the venison roast. Ready! He took it up on a platter that they set on a silver salver while she set the table with their best silverware and fine china, and then they poured the wine, which Marguerite had decanted.

By the time that he had the roast ready; Marguerite came back into the kitchen and took up the vegetables. They took everything out to the table and Roxton sat himself down where Ned usually sat, as the spouse apparent of their hostess. The other side of the table was usually occupied by Challenger, their leader, with his wry blonde girlfriend by his side. Marguerite realized that it was a trivial thing, but she relished being able to sit where she wished without offending Veronica.

She sliced a loaf of fresh whole wheat bread in the kitchen and had it in front of her where she sat on Roxton's right and nudged her chair closer until they filled their glasses and toasted the King. Marguerite brushed her leg against John's and saw him smile.

An idea occurred to the heiress and she buttered a slice of the whole wheat bread and passed it to her love. She had been known to tease Finn for this very act, saying that Challenger was a grown man and could butter his own bread. Now, she felt a sudden urge to do this for Roxton, to spoil him as no woman ever had.

John is going to get better service from me than that damned sultan ever did, although I am now a free woman, she mused. The best gifts are those freely given, not those demanded from a girl whose neck wears a master's collar. Oh, how I love this man! If he knew how weak in the knees he makes me; I'd be totally at his mercy. Well, a lot closer to that than I like to think about. I know in my heart that I can never fully give myself to another person. But to the degree that I can give, Lord John Roxton is going to get the best that I can offer.

Roxton looked at the bread in surprise, and then smiled ironically and accepted it. "It seems that I am on par with our illustrious leader tonight," he commented. "May I expect this in future? Will Finn be amused that you favor me as she does her Genius? Actually, I'm a trifle jealous of how she nurtures George."

"I don't care how it makes Finny feel, though I love her dearly. But if George is good enough to be pampered, then you deserve it all the more. Well, as much… George really is a very special man, to all of us. I actually admire the closeness that he and Finn share. To answer you honestly, I think I may do this at times, if not as routinely as she does. I don't want to be that devoted to you, at least not publicly, not all of the time. But I am definitely going to do this occasionally in front of everyone, especially Finn. I want to show her that I've changed, and that one man has mastered my heart as surely as George owns Finn's. John, I do love you as much as can be, I think, I am just too reserved and self conscious to acknowledge it as openly as she fawns over George. It's almost undignified at times, don't you agree? Even for an emotionally needy post adolescent blonde..."

Roxton nodded, although he was privately more than a bit envious of the way in which that emotionally needy young blonde pampered Challenger. And he knew that Ned was also jealous, for all of his wisecracks about it. Veronica was sweet, but she simply didn't understand how to cater to a man like Finn did. And she was probably too independent to do it, anyway. For the matter of that, so was Marguerite, even more so. Tonight was an exception, and he decided to savor every moment of it.

Her hand brushed his as he took the bread, and a crackle of electricity shot through him as their flesh touched. Gad, I hope that I always feel this excited by her touch, he thought. "Thank you, Darling," he said, and they passed the bowls of food until their plates were full.

Marguerite lifted her glass and held it so that the light of a candle showed through it. The intense red of the wine glinted like a ruby, delighting her eyes. The bouquet had fully developed and she sniffed it with joy. The Victrola phonograph was performing Vivaldi's, "The Four Seasons", a wonderful accompaniment to the splendid meal. In time, they would have coffee, and there was blackberry pie. Altogether, a memorable meal by Treehouse standards. And when she got Roxton upstairs, she would give him more to remember. He wasn't going to forget this night soon, if ever!

As they talked, she used her subconscious to script some things that she meant to do to him. His heart is strong, she reasoned; he can stand the excitement. Marguerite laughed internally, imagining John reacting to her intentions. But he deserved a reward for cooking this dinner. He took her hand in his, and she knew a fullness that she marveled was hers to have.

After, they cleaned up and went to sit on the balcony. It was dark now, with the stars out in full force, the Moon being a mere crescent and not impeding their view of the heavens.

They sat side-by-side in chairs, holding hands occasionally, kissing or simply caressing one another, talking quietly." Look," said Marguerite. She pointed to a familiar constellation "There you are, John, the mighty hunter."

"Orion has got dogs at his feet, Marguerite. I don't own any now, although I plan to get a few when we reach Avebury."

"Still," she persisted, ""I always think of Orion when I think of you. Which constellation reminds you of me?"

"None," he admitted. "None shines that brightly. None has lines that mirror your beauty, your female curves. Coma Berenices has a good tale behind it, but she just isn't 'you'. There's Virgo, but virginity isn't a quality that I prize highly in women."

Marguerite blushed crimson all over the length of her exposed body, so visible in her present brief attire. "It's just as well, John. With my reputation, they'd need one called The Courtesan or the Slave Bimbo. (See the Fic, "A Prisoner of the Sultan, or How Marguerite Learned to Dance".) Maybe, The Fallen Woman… Rodin did sculpt The Kiss. Maybe we're better recreated in sculpture rather than in the stars."

"Oh, I don't know about that, Marguerite. For me, you shine more brightly than the heavens. Your eyes are like stars, the great blue-white ones, those that radiate the most heat. Sirius, those sort… My blood warms just from the touch of your eyes, and when I hold your hand, the heat from you surges through me and a glow passes over my whole body. Holding you, I would be warm in the Arctic, especially if I had you naked in my furs within an igloo there."

He gave her a look that made her sure that if she tried to stand, her knees might be too weak Her heart beat furiously as they rolled toward one another and kissed, the passion building with each touch of his tongue against her lips.

Finally, she disengaged and murmured, "John, I was going to dance for you, but my ankle really does hurt and I wouldn't be able to do it well. Can we just put-on some soft music and slow dance around the living room for awhile? In fact, let's do that later. I think you've made me too weak and too hot for you inside me. Can we go upstairs and let you ravish me? " She looked pleadingly at Roxton, her deep green eyes begging him to take her.

"I'm not sure about taking you upstairs, Marguerite. I think I'm so eager that I want to have you right now, here on this couch."

She laughed. "Veronica would be shocked! We'd get a lecture from her about improper use of her beloved furniture! But begin here, if you wish. Command me, and I will fulfill your every desire. That was really a very nice backrub, and dinner was so thoughtful! And your words are so wonderful to hear. "

"I know that your ankle is bad, and I hate that," Roxton admitted. "I did so want to see you dance, moving like a houri in Paradise, in that minimal outfit, no less! My heart beats faster whenever I can get you to model it."

Marguerite ran a hand along his loins, noting with satisfaction that his manhood swelled even more tumescent as her fingernails glided over it, teasing, taunting, arousing. She looked at him, eye wide, lips parted, and it was all that John could do not to rip off her ornate little G-string and have her right there, on the balcony. He envied the sultan who had once owned her body, but now he owned her heart and she was offering him that body.

He rose, went to the Victrola and put on Ravel's, "Bolero". Then he led Marguerite to the comfortable chair near the couch and unfastened the little gold chain link belt that she wore, stripping off the small feather and bead loincloth, tossing it on a table. He ran hands down her nude body, seeing goosebumps rise on her aroused skin before having her kneel before hIm as he sat in a chair while she used her mouth to work wonders on his erect manhood. When he had stood as much of this oral delight as was possible, he had her kneel low on a cushioned leather hassock where he took his pleasure from her, standing behind her, telling her how erotic she looked in that position, one that excited her as well as him, as he plumbed the depths of her shaft, feeling her shiver as he excited what Finn had told them was called the Graffenberg or "G" spot in the next century. Roxton never stopped moving his hands on her, from playing with her hair and ears to sliding his fingers tantalizingly down her flanks, over the expanse of her butt, noticing the goosebumps again as he stroked her, triggering spasms of delight as he moved within her.

She knew what he wanted and applied all of the skills that she had learned in a harem, in two marriages, and in other liaisons that had not resulted in marriage, but had taught her what men preferred in this regard. Practicing what would someday be known as Kegel exercises, she used her vaginal muscles to entertain him as few women could. Then, spent, they lay on the couch, holding one another, talking softly as they deepened their bond.

After, he led her upstairs to their room. Marguerite carried the little loincloth in her hand, Roxton telling her to take good care of it, for he wanted her to wear it again and again for him.

"Do you realize that this skimpy little garment is probably worth a small fortune to collectors of Aztec or Maya artifacts?" she asked.

"I don't give a damn what some collector would pay. You look priceless in it. Or, out of it. But I do love seeing you in it. If you want to shock someone, make another and sell it. I hardly think that a buyer would display it publicly; some would say that it's indecent. Of course, that's part of its appeal."

"You might be surprised, John. Some people would love to see it in a museum and make scandalous talk about it and about the girls who might have had to wear such things. Even I feel scandalous in it. I suppose that was Cuauhtémoc's intention, that and to leave Veronica and me feeling exposed and helpless."

Roxton laughed. "Marguerite, you are hardly helpless in that outfit! In it, you are at your most powerful. In time, you would have charmed even Cuauhtémoc XIV! I thrill whenever I can talk you into wearing it and the crowd that saw me fight Xu'ac must have had trouble keeping its eyes on us in the arena, with you and Veronica to watch. Even the women must have looked, feeling jealous. How many outfits did they offer when you selected this one?"

"Five. Maybe six. Veronica chose well, too, that little ocelot number. I know that Ned insisted that she keep it and make more. She wears them for him when they're alone."

She paused as they reached the door to their room. She looked slyly at the earl and asked, "Shall I put it on again? You do seem to like seeing me in it!" She laughed, knowing the probable answer.

"Perhaps tomorrow. We have some time before the others return, and I do want to see you in it again. For now, take off that necklace and the earrings. I don't want anything getting in the way while I enjoy you again to the fullest. Tomorrow, I may ask you to wear just the earrings and the sandals. You have no idea how wonderful you look that way, almost better than nude."

"Actually," said Marguerite," I do know how I look that way. I was forced by not only Sultan Ahmed bin Hakim al-Rashid but by Avery Burton to dress like that and to stand before a mirror and to see how I looked while they gloated and stared. Finn had to do that, too, with Burton, and she just shrugged and told me that she sometimes dresses that way when she cuts George's hair when the rest of us are gone. She knows damned well how that makes her look. John, I love her like a sister, but I truly believe that she's a bit of an exhibitionist. Not that you men seem to mind: You all like looking at her and Veronica when we dance for you. And Finny insists on wearing that little black shorts outfit like she wore in New Amazonia when we first met. I've offered to sew her more respectable clothing, but she says it's comfortable and is cool in the jungle. But I know that she likes to see you fellows look at her legs. It makes me jealous at times. You men look at Veronica, too. Is it so important to see girls, particularly blonde ones, dressed like sluts? I was raised to higher standards, and I try to be respectable for you. Don't you prefer that? I know you don't see women just as sex toys." She looked earnestly at him with those big green eyes, and Roxton feared that the mood might change if he didn't find the right answer, and fast! (See the Fic, "A Night in the Lost World" for Marguerite's and Finn's adventures in captivity with a returned Avery Burton from the TV episode, "Trophies".)

He said cautiously, "Marguerite, I look mainly at you, even when you three girls dance. As a biological necessity, I suppose, being male, I do glance at Finn at times, and at our lovely hostess. I wouldn't be a normal man if I didn't! We men all look at each of you women with reasonable discretion. I not only don't want to miff you, but George is proprietary about Finn, and Ned that way about Veronica. But they are to me like lovely sculptures in a museum. Look, but don't touch or interact with in a carnal way… You are real, vital, the woman whom I value in real life, my future spouse! The woman whom I want above all others. They are just visual dalliances, admired in passing, because they are there and are beautiful. But they are not my women, and I never forget that, I swear to you.

"I have had other women as technically lovely as you, Marguerite, but they lacked your combination of beauty, sarcasm, wry humor, spirit, and general desirability. When I put my ring on your finger I swore loyalty to you, and you will have that from me. You have sung to my soul as no female ever has, more than I dreamed that one could. Does it really bother you so much that I briefly glance at other women in passing, when there is no intent to want them that way? They are like my sisters, while you occupy a very different role in my life."

"John, forgive me. I'm a woman, and because of how I was raised, or _not_ raised, I'm still insecure. And Finn likes hunting and adventure as you do. I'm always a trifle apprehensive when you two are out together. That's why I blew my top and made a fool of myself when she found my missing necklace in the river." (See, "A Ripped Garment" on this board, in Mature TLW fiction.)

Roxton led Marguerite into their room and tossed her loincloth on a dresser. Then, he took both of her hands in his and pulled her to him and smiled into her eyes. "Darling, I swear to you that I have never wanted Finn. She's like a little sister or a very pretty, feminine tomboy pal."

This wasn't quite true, for he had once had visions of taking Finn over his lap and spanking her when the blonde girl had advised him to do that to Marguerite when she had put on a week's worth of snide tantrums that had disturbed tranquility in the Treehouse. Finn had agreed that if her suggestion to discipline Marguerite had backfired, Roxton could take it out by paddling her, Finn, when they were next alone. She had probably been half joking, but the image of her across him, her sexy bare buttocks beneath his hand, had aroused him more than he told her. As it happened, he had spanked Marguerite, telling her that it was either that, or he was moving back into his old room. Thankfully, it had turned out that she had just been pushing him to test his limits, not knowing why, except that she wanted to have him take charge and make her admit that she had fallen for him and wanted to have him assert his authority when she acted up to such a degree.

Fiercely independent, she had subconsciously wanted to know that she was giving herself to a man who would not tolerate more from her than he should. If she could wipe her feet on him, Roxton was not after all the man she needed. But he proved that he was that man, in one of the just two episodes in which he had spanked her. And he swatted her behind in playful appreciation less than many men might have. So, it came to pass that Finn never had to pay off on her offer to go over Roxton's lap in recompense for having given him bad advice. But the image of her squirming atop him in such a situation occasionally visited his mind, leaving him with an erection. Of course, he told no one, even Finn, in whom he otherwise confided more than to anyone else other than to her beloved scientist and to Marguerite. And he was certainly not about to tell this to Marguerite now! Or at any other time!

Finn was attractive, and it appealed to his ego to answer her questions about tracking, hunting in Africa, etc. as she sat with chin on hand, devouring his tales of adventure and asking his instruction in marksmanship and in jungle craft. But he was loyal to his raven-haired lass when it came to having women in the bedded sense. Once so much a ladies' man, John Roxton now rigidly restricted his love to one woman. And felt strangely content for that.

Marguerite looked carefully back into his eyes, then lowered her gaze and came fully into his arms. "John, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. But I'm human, and I'm female. I worry about Finn's beauty and your shared interests and about the way that Veronica's little outfit and her sexy walk and her overall personality affect men. But I do believe you, and am sorry that I brought this up, now of all times. Where were we? I believe that I promised you a night of total bliss. What would 'bliss' you the most?" She grinned wickedly, now past her doubts and ready to please.

"Marguerite, just looking at your face and holding you is total bliss. We'll have to think hard to improve on that, but I promise you that I'll manage! "He kissed her and she loved that smug, assured male look on his countenance. The man swaggered, but he had a right to, considering what she knew he could do to her, had done to her, almost every time that he bedded her. And he was hers! She was now the one woman to whom he wished to do those fantastic things that brought her to orgasm and over the edge, sweeping her up and dropping her from heights that she had not fully realized existed. Her heart beat faster as she removed the earrings and the necklace and followed him to their bed. She tried not to blush or to breathe so heavily that he knew what he was already doing to her as his hand tugged lightly at her hair, then slipped down her back and briefly caressed her bottom before moving to her parted thighs.

Once atop the mattress, the covers tossed aside, they talked, lying close, their hands constantly moving on one another, lips frequently meeting. Roxton murmured all of the things that she had hoped to hear and she snuggled next to him, loving each word that he spoke.

In time, he made suggestions and requests and she complied, sometimes adding touches of her own that she knew would thrill any man fortunate enough to receive her gifts. Then, he made her lie back and receive his own efforts, performing intimate services on her until she screamed with the fullness of her pleasure and of her love, quivering in ecstasy as he played her like a master violinist who took consummate skill in his instrument.

It was late before they slept, and she was exhausted. But, she reflected, this sure beats trekking to that silly hot springs where George and the others probably won't find any stones worth having for anything but his experiments. She wondered how her friends were faring. Finn probably wouldn't bring her any diamonds, or inferior ones. But, she noted mentally, I have the finest jewel of my life right here beside me, holding me. John is my true treasure!

She told him that, and he mumbled something about it being high time that she realized it, and he kissed her again, tenderly, lingeringly, before sleep claimed him.

Chapter Four

Marguerite woke hours later, with John nuzzling her breasts, a nipple rolled gently in his mouth while his right hand toyed with the other. His remaining hand stroked her inner thigh, igniting fires in her loins. Marguerite needed to pee, but was so aroused that she lay there and became embroiled in what he had in mind.

After, she felt as if she had run a mile. She did run to the bathroom, hearing him chuckle at her urgent need. The man damned well knew what he did to her, she thought. No wonder he was so smug about it! But he had also been gentle and tender and admiring of her, lessening her anger at how much she had come to crave his touch, his leer matched by the twinkle in his eyes and what she knew was a warm affection for her.

After, they showered and she reached for a short black robe, intending to make his breakfast. But John took it from her, tossing it on their bed. "Just wear earrings and sandals. You look wonderful that way, and the sandals will keep you from getting splinters in those pretty feet. I want to see you in what I said, and wear the gold loop earrings, not more formal ones. They have an earthy, erotic quality that most of your earrings lack, at least to some degree." He handed the inch-wide gold rings to her. They were the medium size that she had helped Veronica to make for each of the three women who lived there. Only the blondes ever wore the large ones, and then just when they danced or at a party. Even Finn admitted that they bordered on overkill, unless a woman wanted to send the same message that high heeled shoes with an ankle strap did. She said that such were called "fuck me shoes" in her time.

Finn had been read that in some women's magazine, and she and her friends had blushed and laughed. But, reflected Marguerite, Finn now owned a pair of shoes like that, and wore them with what she called slip dresses and sun dresses when the ladies were in party mode. And it was true that the men did look at her with barely bridled lust, Challenger torn between admonishing her for being too brazen and just enjoying the view, knowing that it was with him that she would spend the night.

Marguerite put on the earrings and buckled the Triceratops hide sandals. She looked shyly at Roxton, remembering what they had done that night and again as they woke. "John, what if the others come home early? George already caught me down here once in that short robe, and made a comment about it being better confined to our own room. He would have said more, had Finn not sneaked down in her bra and panties to talk before she dressed that morning. You men were away, saving for George being in the lab. Thankfully, I had more on than she did, which isn't too unusual, to say the least. But it was embarrassing! That was the morning that Finny and Veronica made me learn to cook, to the degree that I can. I'm still no _cordon_ _bleu_ chef, but I'll get your breakfast made."

"No robe," he said firmly. "They won't be home for hours, and if they are early, we'll hear the elevator and can bolt for our room. I'll just wear these dark blue shorts that Finn calls 'boxers' that you sew for me. You seem to like them, I've noted. It appeals to my male vanity. Men have some of that, too, you know. And I'll help you make breakfast."

"No," said Marguerite, "I can make our breakfast. I want to see if it makes me feel as womanly as the blondes say it will. You make coffee, and just stand in the kitchen and talk. But you are my man and I am your woman, and I will cook for you. Is that clear, Lord Roxton?"

He looked at her and knew that she meant it and was enormously pleased.

She managed not to burn the eggs or the tapir ham and the coffee was actually sublime. They made toast from a loaf that was fresh the previous afternoon and she again buttered it for him, both laughing at the nurturing gesture.

They sat side-by-side, in their usual chairs, each sometimes reaching out to touch the other to emphasize some point as the talked, their eyes saying how they felt about each other and their precious time alone.

"So," asked the earl, "did making my breakfast really make you feel more womanly, more mine, binging the two of us more together?" He braced for a flippant, sarcastic retort.

"Actually, yes, John. I do feel very female and fulfilled and more yours. It's a heady feeling on one hand, very reassuring. I may do this more often, joining the other women in the kitchen when I have nothing more important to do. And I'm beginning to think that not too much is more important. Even when we reach Avebury and have servants, I may give them occasional days off while I tend to your needs. I rather think I'd like that, if not done too often. Is this making any sense at all? Does it make you feel that I'm an imposter; that you're talking now to a stranger?" She laughed self- consciously.

Roxton looked into her eyes, took one of her hands and kissed it. He said, "Marguerite Krux, I love you with all of my heart and all of my soul. You are no stranger, and I feel very connected to you."

She blushed, not scarlet, but more of a rosy hue, a happy glow from within her core. Then, she leaned over and kissed him as she asked if he wanted more coffee.

They washed the dishes and straightened up the Treehouse, making sure that all signs of last night's passion were erased. Then they went up to their room, talking quietly in bed before he again took her, three times, lifting her to elevations from which she feared that she would crash to Earth and shatter from the impact. She moaned softly at the minor things that he thought of, like kissing and caressing the palms of her hands. And she screamed softly when he did some of the other things, the more obvious ones, so skillfully. He had had her shave between her legs and she found new pleasure as he attended to her nether regions, so bare and smooth and wanton in their appeal to his eyes and his lips. What he did down there left her breathless and almost begging by the time that he entered her again.

Then, spent, they cuddled, stroking one another, gazing into one another's eyes until Marguerite thought of the time. She rolled over and reached for Roxton's watch, lying on the nightstand next to his Colt .45 automatic pistol. Opening the cover, she was shocked to see how much time had passed. "Oh, John," she exclaimed. "It is well past noon and they will be here soon!"

"I don't care who knows," he replied. "I love you and we are together. Our friends know that. Come here; we have time for another round of this. Challenger and the others are probably running late, anyway. They won't be hurrying in this heat."

"John, I am serious! They certainly will be home soon. We dare not tarry longer, or we will be found out. I love you, but we have our dignity to consider. Do you really want to have them snicker or look with disdain on us for not getting more done in their absence?"

And so they rose and showered, each washing the other's back. He was drying her hair on the balcony before their room, Marguerite seated in a chair wearing only lavender bikini panties when Roxton saw movement in the jungle along the edge of the tree line. He picked up Challenger's ten power Zeiss binocular and found the movement that had attracted his eye in its lenses. He easily identified their friends; carrying bags of what he presumed were Challenger's various medical weeds and herbs. They were moving well, now on open ground as jungle gave way to the patch of savannah surrounding the Treehouse. They would be home in about 10 or 12 minutes! He told Marguerite to dress and the couple scrambled for their clothes, glad that no one in the other party was examining them through binoculars, as sometimes happened.

John dressed as he normally did, pulling on boots as he prepared to greet those now ascending in the elevator. Marguerite left off her boots and bra, throwing on a lavender top and khaki skirt with sandals in lieu of boots. She tried to control her breathing and look cool and blasé as she went to boil water for tea.

The elevator stopped and discharged the Malones, they sending it back for the Challengers. Both pairs soon greeted the Roxtons as they walked in with their rifles, packs, and scientific plant burdens.

Challenger and Malone took three agouti carcasses to the meat preperation area, Roxton congratulating them on killing the large rodents, a fairly staple meat in this dwelling among the branches. Veronica took plants to the lab and showed some carrots and potatoes that she had gathered in the garden as they arrived. She also had corn, maize collected a short distance away from the main compound, where they grew it to avoid impoverishing the soil in the slash and burn type agriculture that had eventually devastated the Maya civilization. Challenger and the late Dr. Arthur Summerlee knew how to grow maize without that risk! The corn was often ground and mixed with lime paste for added nutrition, being used to bake tortillas such as were substituted for bread in Mexico, far to the north.

Finn didn't immediately follow Challenger to the lab. Instead, she took her rifle to the rack in the main living room and opened the bolt, catching the 6.5mm cartridge as it flipped out of the action. She pressed the ejected round back into the ingenious rotary magazine and slid the bolt closed over it, avoiding loading the rifle again. She closed the bolt and snapped the trigger on the empty chamber and wiped the Mannlicher-Schoenauer's blued steel parts down with an oily rag before placing it in the rack. That night, she would clean it more carefully. (Like the others, she always wore her revolver and hunting knife up to her room.)

She picked up her pack and made for the stairs, planning to wash and change clothes. But, when she saw Marguerite nearby, trying to look innocent and unconcerned, she paused.

"Tea, Finn?" asked the brunette Briton. "We have water almost boiling. John and I thought that you could all use some refreshment after your long journey."

Finn set her pack on the leather hassock or whatever that thingee was. She carefully avoided asking Marguerite, lest she feel ignorant. Later, she'd ask Vee or Challenger.

Marguerite saw where Finn had set the pack and shivered a little. Just the previous evening, she had been kneeling there, receiving John's attentions. Now, she tried not to notice anything unusual. She sought to suppress the memory of him moving within her, the palms of her hands and her forearms, like her right cheek, pressed against the leather, her butt in the air, arousing his full lust. She knew that she was blushing and hoped that Finny would be too tired to notice.

But little escaped her friend's sharp eyes. Finn had survived for as long as she had by being very alert. Now she looked at Marguerite with concern. "You look flushed, Marguerite. Is everything all right? How was your time alone with Johnny?" She studied Marguerite's face, a bit worried.

But Marguerite said that she was fine. "Actually, we had a wonderful time. It's just been a little hot, you know, rather sultry."

"I know too damned well," said Finn. "It was worse on the trail, but we camped up high and last night wasn't too bad, really. We got some cool breezes and George slept better than I was afraid he might.

"Hey, look at what I found! You remember that I promised to bring you a few diamonds if we located anything good? How about these?" She dug into her deerskin pack and produced a small suede bag. "Hold out your hands, girlfriend. Tell me what you think of this." And she poured out some milky white stones that looked like quartz at a glance.

The older woman looked, then took the stones outside and studied them in better light. She turned them, feeling the texture and held one up to the light. Diamonds!

"Finny, good heavens!," exclaimed the brunette. "Do you know what you have here? When these are cut in London or Amsterdam, they will be among the finest gemstones of our time! You certainly made that trip worthwhile, despite my misgivings."

Finn grinned and opened her hand. "Got some of those green ones that you like, too, Marguerite. Are these what I think?" And she displayed six raw emeralds.

Marguerite took them reverently, handing Finn the diamonds. She studied them in the good sunlight and said, "Finn, these are just lovely. They are among the best emeralds that I have seen. I can't wait to see them cut and polished and mounted. Here: be careful with them. They're worth a small fortune. I don't suppose that you found any at all for me? You did say that you'd look on my behalf. Not that I expect you to have done much for me. I really should have come, myself, but my ankle truly does hurt."

Finn realized that Marguerite had misunderstood her. Now, she smiled widely and said, "Marguerite, you dope! Those are for you! I kept some for myself, but picked out some of the best for you. I got the Genius to look them over. He said they're really special, like you."

Marguerite was stunned. "Finn, I can't accept anything this valuable. These are worth many, many pounds in London!"

Finn smiled. "Well, aren't you worth it? You think pretty highly of yourself. And you did offer to sew me a new dress. I want some more 21st Century lingerie and some new black outfits like I usually wear, too. But I don't need any more cracks from you about how what I wear makes me look like a teen tart, okay? It's cool in this climate and guys like it. If you showed more leg, yourself, I bet that Johnny would like that. Why hide great assets like I know you have? You're almost as pretty as Vee and me, except that you have that ugly dark hair. And George can make you hair dye to solve that." She looked at her older "sister", a grin on her face as she teased Marguerite about her hair. Finn and Veronica sometimes grew tired of Marguerite's blonde jokes…

"We have scads of money from our share of the loot from Xochilenque, and George will make millions off of his inventions. I can afford to give you the jewels. And I love you. I wanted to see that look on your face as you realized that I do care about you, a lot. You felt so bad about that hissy that you threw when you thought that Johnny and I had been fooling around on you when I had to go in the river and save your necklace that I wanted to make it up to you. (See, "A Ripped Garment".) We should have just brought the necklace to you right away and you wouldn't have thought that we were fooling around . It really hurt me that you thought that I'd betray you. And Johnny is really into you. That guy is totally calling your name. I probably couldn't seduce him if I tried. Which I wouldn't, because I love the Genius, anyway. George Challenger is enough man for me. He was so romantic, Marguerite. We slept with our hammocks side-by-side, and he held my hand while I went to sleep. And he helped me to find those jewels for you. We had a great picnic, too. This trip was fun. So, what did you and John do? Everything go okay?"

"Oh, uh, yes, we had fun. We made dinner last night and looked at the stars after. It was very pleasant." She cleared her throat. "Finn, I cooked for him this morning. I didn't burn anything. You and Veronica were right: it did make me feel more his, like we're a loving couple. I felt so domestic that it scared me. And he was quite affectionate, too." Marguerite realized that she was blushing again.

Finn looked shrewdly at her. "Do I sense a certain embarrassment, Marguerite? Did you guys do the nasty, maybe big time? Yes! You did! You made love! You're going scarlet. Ha-ha, a scarlet woman, like in that book by that _yanqu_i author, Hawthorne. You're red all over, for a different reason. So, was it hot for you? I bet he can really turn a girl on when he wants to."

"Finn, good lord, hush! Yes, we made love. I won't tell all, but it was very satisfactory. I look forward to doing those things again soon. If you hear anything through the wall tonight, know that he's aroused me to the point where I think no woman has gone before, to where he took me. " She looked down, embarrassed but delighted as she recalled what John had done to her.

"That good, huh?" Finn looked really interested.

"Oh, Finn, you don't know the half of it. And you aren't going to! Some things should stay between a man and his wench. Besides, I'm too proud to admit that I lost control several times while he had his way with me. Keep this to yourself, please? My dignity is in tatters just from looking at your reaction to this intimate news. I am not as open as women apparently were in your century. I have no intention of giving you a bit-by-bit narrative of what John does in bed! With my luck, you or Ned would enjoy publishing it in your anticipated accounts of our stay here."

Finn put the jewels back into Marguerite's hand and hugged her. "Marguerite, I hope that you have the greatest love of all time, except for mine, of course. You deserve it. And of course I'll keep your secret. We went through a lot with Burton, and we've kept a lot of that to ourselves. I can keep this news to myself, too. But I am so happy for you, Marguerite. You and John make such a wonderful couple, and I guess that it's just getting better for you?"

Marguerite nodded, wondering if Finn had noticed that she was braless under her blouse. She had really dressed in a rush… "Go and clean up, Finn. I'll have tea ready when you get back. And thanks more than I can say for the gems. You're sure that you mean for me to have have such valuable stones?"

Finn nodded. "I can't think of anyone who'd want them more. Just give me some nice lace trim on those undies and the dresses, and keep the legs on my shorts short enough, like on the clothes that I wore in New Amazonia, alias Puke City. We'll talk later about the colors for the dresses and the panties, and the styles. " And Finn lifted her pack and went up to her room.

Marguerite looked at the gems in the warm afternoon sunlight and sighed with pleasure and contentment. She wasn't even particularly miffed when Veronica called to her to come help in the kitchen.

"Hi, Marguerite," said the Layton lass, peeling a carrot. "How'd your time with John go? Did Finny give you those jewels?"

""She gave me the gems, and John and I got along fine. Very well indeed, I must say. The jewels will look fabulous when finished. I love them already. Even more, I love that you and Finn found them for me. How can I help in here?"

Later, with all seated at dinner, the explorers told of their trip to the mines at Agua Caliente and of their time there. The Roxtons listened carefully, occasionally asking questions about any animals seen; how the emeralds were located in a shallow river, and such things.

In time, Challenger looked at John and Marguerite and asked, "All was well here, I trust? It's been awfully sultry for the past two days."

"Yes," said Marguerite, holding John's hand under the table. She had already raised eyebrows by buttering his bread, generating a glance between Finn and Veronica that had caused both to smile and wink at one another.

"Yes, it was sultry, but we got on well, and didn't have any trouble sleeping. And we had fun together." And she and John looked at one another, each struggling to keep a straight face.

The End


End file.
